


Care to explain yourself?

by trainspotter (prideLied)



Category: Trainspotting (Movies), Trainspotting Series - Irvine Welsh
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Masturbation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Short One Shot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:54:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28474272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prideLied/pseuds/trainspotter
Summary: Sick Boy decides to relieve some tension.
Relationships: Mark "Rent Boy" Renton & Simon "Sick Boy" Williamson, Mark "Rent Boy" Renton/Simon "Sick Boy" Williamson
Comments: 12
Kudos: 16





	1. Chapter 1

Sick Boy stared up at his ceiling, his face twisted in contemplation. 

He was alone in the flat, with Mark out for uni an all. Geeky wanker. He had always been so smart. Sick Boy remembered many times that Mark had put some rich uni cunt in their place at a bar. He remembered the look of determination that came over Mark's face as he posited an argument, embarrassing every posh wanker. This lower-class Edinburgh kid had a better grip on these high concepts than an educated mid-twenties trust funder and it never ceased to impress, scare, and arouse Sick Boy.

Lots of things about Mark seemed to arouse Sick Boy. He huffed as he acknowledged this. Sick Boy was no buftie. He did not like men. 

But Mark...he was different. Mark had piercing blue eyes and a disarming smile and soft strawberry hair. Mark was warm and kind and knew him better than anyone else. They'd known eachother for so damn long. Sick Boy could almost justify his feelings by dismissing them as friendly affection. 

But not quite. 

This was made clear by the stirring in Sick Boy's pants as a rush of thoughts flooded his mind. He'd been off the skag for long enough now for his imagination to really be running wild. Mark in those tight jeans he always wore. Mark bent over in front of him. Mark with his shirt off. Mark cumming all over himself. Mark... 

God, he needed a lassie to distract him. 

And he would make sure to have one later, but for now, he just needed to relieve this unbearable tension. 

He'd not touched himself. He'd not even moved, but the warmth in his crotch and his fattening cock was making itself known. Fuck it. He undid his belt with shaking hands and tugged down his trousers and began palming himself through his keks, squirming a bit as he denied himself skin-on-skin contact for the time being.

He tried for a moment to think of anything other than his best friend, and could not.

" _Fuck_..." He breathed, his lips parting as he worked at his cock through the fabric. Then he could not take it anymore, and he pulled his keks down to his knees and then kicked them off, his erection bouncing and coming to rest against his stomach.

He ran his hand up to his balls, fondling them momentarily before lazily dragging his hand up to grip his painfully hard cock.

Then he started moving, tugging away slowly, then faster. His eyes drifted shut and he groaned softly, the heat of arousal turning his cheeks red. He squirmed a little, trying to regain control of himself. He had never been very good at containing himself when in a state like this, and the images that were flying through his mind were not helping. 

He wanted Mark to ride him. He wanted to see him come undone completely and utterly, and he wanted to see it in his face, in the way he would shiver and moan in ecstasy at the feeling of Sick Boy's cock inside of him. In that moment it would no longer be a mystery what his best friend was thinking and feeling, and he would belong to Sick Boy and no one else. No one else... 

Sick Boy was fucking his fist at this point, arching and gasping. So close.

"Mark... oh _fuck_ , Mark!"

A few uneven strokes of his hand later, and Sick Boy was over the edge, his mouth agape and his eyes pressed shut as he came all over his hand and stomach, his other hand gripping the sheet beneath him. The feeling of relief finally washed over him and he relaxed, breathing heavily in his post-wank bliss.

He opened his eyes and froze.

Mark stood in the doorway, wide-eyed and staring.

Sick Boy realised he still had his spent cock out in the open and scrambled to put himself away, his face turning red. "What the fuck, Mark? How long ye been standing there?" 

"Long enough, Si. Heard ma name." Renton smirked, putting his bag down. "Care to explain yerself?"


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An explanation is provided.

"Me? Explain maself? Whit tae fuck were ye daeing watching me?" Simon sputtered, moving to rest his back against the headboard and crossing his arms.   


"Was not. Ae just got home and heard ma name and walked in tae see ye already finishing up." Mark was grinning. 

"Yer no meant to be home fer anither coupla hours." 

"Early finish." Mark stepped forwards, staring Simon down. 

"Fuck off." 

"Am still waiting for ye to answer ma question, Si."

"No, Mark! The answer is fucking 'no'. Ae don't care to explain shit tae ye at this time, so pish off." Simon snapped and turned away, dismissing Mark with a frustrated wave, his face still a bright shade of red. 

"Awright." Mark closed the door on his way out. 

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck. 

Sick Boy buried his face in his hands and tried in vain to calm down. He couldn't fucking believe it. As if Mark needed another thing to be so smug about. So stupidly, irritatingly smug. Aw yeah, the great Mark Renton, smartest gadge in town, so great even his own best mate is getting off to the thought of him. Sick Boy could not stand it. Not to mention the fact that he was not gay. Mark was sure to get the wrong idea, and Sick Boy had no clue how he'd react. No, he certainly did not care to explain himself. He had no way to explain himself.

He'd have to think of something. 

*** 

Simon had paced around his room for what felt like hours before he emerged into the living room to see Mark on the couch, watching telly. 

"Am going to Mother Superior's, ye coming?" 

"Aye. Let's go." 

A hit was just what Sick Boy needed to get his mind off of the situation. Yes, he would simply let go of his worries temporarily and let it all blow over. 

He spent the night with Alison, given that she agreed to not tell anyone that Sick Boy had failed to procure an erection when the time came, and had settled with just cuddling instead. 

Simon skipped going back to the flat entirely the next four days, instead spending his time at some bars in which he knew he'd be unlikely to run into Renton. He chatted with girls, spending nights at their accommodations and tried to distract himself from his thoughts. He'd have to face Mark eventually, and when he did, he'd have to explain himself in a satisfactory manner. Given this, and his rapidly progressing sickness, he concluded that another hit was in order as soon as possible. 

As Sick Boy was coming down at Mother Superior's, he found himself alone in the room except for an equally skagged-out Mark Renton beside him. 

"Ye ken Ae dinnae judge, Si." Mark mumbled. 

Simon said nothing. 

"Am just really wanting to know why." 

Simon turned his head to look at his mate. "Mark. Jus forget about it. Let's move on. Pretend it never happened." His eyes were wide and pleading. 

"Ye ken Ae cannae." Mark rolled over to face Simon, only inches away, his expression absolutely inscrutable as usual. 

Simon felt pathetic, dissected, naked. It was a feeling he was not used to, and one he found that he completely and utterly loathed. This was not fair! That Mark could know all this about him, that he was forced to be vulnerable and Mark was not. All this, and he was expected on top of that to provide a coherent explanation for why he did what he did, why he was feeling this way, something even he found to be an opaque mystery? Simon was fuming. If Mark wanted an explanation, fine, he'd give him his fucking explanation. He'd explain himself alright. He'd- 

Before Simon could exercise some impulse control he had launched himself forward and his lips had crashed into Mark's and he was pinning Mark down by his stupid wrists and he was fucking _explaining_ himself, goddammit, the only way he knew how. And to his desperate, pained delight he had found no resistance, and Mark was yielding beneath him, kissing him oh-so-tenderly back, meeting his aggression with an unfathomable gentleness and passion. 

It was everything Simon had imagined kissing Mark Renton would be like, and God did he not want it to stop. 

Mark pried himself off for just a moment. "Si-"

"Shut the fuck up." Simon cut him off sharply and continued. 

Simon's hands moved from Mark's wrists to his waist, and he felt Mark run his fingers through his hair and down his neck in the most tantalising way, making Simon shiver. A quick push, and Mark flipped them over. He kissed Simon's neck and shifted his hips in just the right way to make Simon's breath catch in his throat. Mark's hands were under his shirt, pulling it up and running his hands over the writhing boy beneath him, who was pulling Mark's head up and pressing their lips together once again, and Simon couldn't stand this, couldn't stand the tension, he needed _more_ , he needed- 

Footsteps. Swanney down the hallway. 

They flew apart like they had been electrocuted. Simon, feeling uncomfortably sober, was immediately scrambling to his feet and looking to leave. 

Mother Superior entered and noticed nothing amiss. "Awright, boys?" 

"Aye..." Mark said, watching Sick Boy put on his jacket and shoes. 

"I'll be off now, Swanney." Simon said, already on his way out.

"Wait...wait, Si!" Mark seemed to snap to his senses and jumped up to jog out after him.

"Si! Sick Boy!" 

Simon kept walking, avoiding eye contact as they stepped out into the street.

"We need tae fucking talk about this, mate!" Renton tried standing in front of Sick Boy, who just stepped around him and continued.

"Ae don't wanty right now Rents." 

"Ye cannae keep avoiding the issue, especially after that display."

"Ae don't know what yer oan about." Simon said flatly, trying to appear calm and just keep walking.

"Si, am serious. Ae just wanty ken what the fuck is going on."

"Fucking nout, that's what."

"Nout? Ye've been avoiding me for days and then ye jump me like that-"

Simon stopped and finally looked Mark in the eyes. "Means fuckall, 's the skag, shut the fuck up and _forget about it_." Simon said in a low tone through clenched teeth, hailing a taxi.

They rode home in silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is sloppy and short, I know! I promise there is more and better to come, this is my first ever fic :'D


End file.
